G-Rex ran to me. "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" she called breathlessly.
"What's wrong?" I asked, dropping the laundry I had been sorting into the washer.
"Mommy! Ursa has white stuff all over her head!"
"White stuff? What is it?"
"I don't know! Will she be OK?"
"Could it be spit-up?" I suggested.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked up at me skeptically. "Um. I don't think so."
Together we made our way to the living room, calling the WunderMutt... who saw us coming, tucked her tail between her legs and scampered into her kennel with a plaintive whine. After a little coaxing she made her way out of her sanctuary. Sure enough, there was a thick white substance all over the top of her head.
I looked over at the baby gym thingy where GERD-Girl squealed in delight and waved her arms at me. Her chin bore a lumpy layer of baby puke which spread down the front of her jammies.
And over the expanse of the baby gym.
And onto the proximal surface of the coffee table.
Miraculously, there was no vomit on the carpet in front of the baby gym.
Where the poor dog had been resting.
Showing posts with label GERD Girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label GERD Girl. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Et Lux Perpetua
It's been a while since I hit the gym. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've gone to the gym every day.
To take the kids to swimming lessons.
Last week I didn't even bother making childcare reservations. I knew I didn't have it in me to honor the commitment. It was all I could do to just get through the week.
Over the course of the past two weeks, I've been overeating, not exercising... and journeying from the high of having a billion family members join me in my home for a week to the low of trying to reclaim home and routine after their departure (a departure that is depressing independent of all the other factors) whilst GERD-Girl's affliction (see moniker) seemed to increase in frequency and volume.
So Sunday night found me puffy, heavy and depressed. I didn't want to face the Bayba Swimming Ordeals. I was tired of smelling like vomit. And I had reached the point where I wasn't sure I even wanted to be a wife or mother anymore. Not an optimal place to be at the end of a weekend.
Yesterday I asked Bayba if she wanted to continue swimming lessons. (Backstory: Her regular instructor had to leave, mid-session, to return to school and was replaced by a young man who appears to be an excellent teacher. Unfortunately, Bayba FREAKED OUT, insisting he was too scary and refused to participate in her class at all.) She said she didn't. She'd rather wait on the deck while G-Rex completed her swim lessons. OK. We sat through the session. Bayba behaved beautifully. At the end I asked her if she wanted to go back to class tomorrow. She calmly said No, she'd rather wait again. I'm fine with that.
So I made reservations with the childcare facility for the younger kids every day this week. I didn't really feel like working out. So I know this is a crucial crossroads. Am I going to push past the inertia? Am I going to succumb to excuses?
This morning I was so tempted to get back in bed and oversleep accidentally on purpose. I didn't. I forced myself out of bed, showered, and dressed for the gym. All the while I found excuse after excuse to just stay home.
I couldn't think of good arguments against the excuses, so I just observed them as they assaulted me... and continued to prepare the kids. Step by step, we all ended up at the gym. I checked the kids into childcare and trudged up the stairs to the yoga classroom... still pelting myself with reasons why it wasn't worthwhile.
Throughout the hour I moved from pose to pose. Breathing. Trying to still my mind. But I just wasn't feeling it.
Nevertheless, the end of the hour came quickly.
The lights dimmed. In Savasana I squirmed and twitched, trying to get my body aligned and symmetrical. Tried to relax.
Then I breathed deeply and gave up on the idea of stilling my thoughts. Towards the end of the practice, the teacher had commented on adjusting the position to maintain balance and I realized how silly it was for me to struggle to find stillness.
Poses are not still.
Somehow I always thought that the point of each pose was to find the balance and stick, unmoving - all still and serene like the yogis in the magazines.
But it's impossible not to move. The heart still beats. The lungs expand and contract. As each muscle fiber twitches, the mind and body must continually re-evaluate and adjust. I am not failing the pose by being human. I am not failing myself.
Yes, this is profound for me. Acknowledging that something so simple - so DUH! - is such an overwhelming lesson made me laugh a little at myself (internal laughter, of course - I'm not a Phillistine) and reminded me of a friend good-naturedly poking fun of me for my enthusiasm for Buddhism 101 - style discoveries.
Which led me to the realization that this friend has been dead for almost a year now. Yes, it's been nearly a year since I started this particular journey.
As I somberly acknowledged the tweak of pain that came with the remembrance, I also recalled the greatest compliment I've ever received. Yes, from this friend.
Amidst much noise of other discussion he said, "My God, what you can do with a phrase."
It's difficult to maintain Savasana when one's temples are suddenly tickled by surprise tears.
To take the kids to swimming lessons.
Last week I didn't even bother making childcare reservations. I knew I didn't have it in me to honor the commitment. It was all I could do to just get through the week.
Over the course of the past two weeks, I've been overeating, not exercising... and journeying from the high of having a billion family members join me in my home for a week to the low of trying to reclaim home and routine after their departure (a departure that is depressing independent of all the other factors) whilst GERD-Girl's affliction (see moniker) seemed to increase in frequency and volume.
So Sunday night found me puffy, heavy and depressed. I didn't want to face the Bayba Swimming Ordeals. I was tired of smelling like vomit. And I had reached the point where I wasn't sure I even wanted to be a wife or mother anymore. Not an optimal place to be at the end of a weekend.
Yesterday I asked Bayba if she wanted to continue swimming lessons. (Backstory: Her regular instructor had to leave, mid-session, to return to school and was replaced by a young man who appears to be an excellent teacher. Unfortunately, Bayba FREAKED OUT, insisting he was too scary and refused to participate in her class at all.) She said she didn't. She'd rather wait on the deck while G-Rex completed her swim lessons. OK. We sat through the session. Bayba behaved beautifully. At the end I asked her if she wanted to go back to class tomorrow. She calmly said No, she'd rather wait again. I'm fine with that.
So I made reservations with the childcare facility for the younger kids every day this week. I didn't really feel like working out. So I know this is a crucial crossroads. Am I going to push past the inertia? Am I going to succumb to excuses?
This morning I was so tempted to get back in bed and oversleep accidentally on purpose. I didn't. I forced myself out of bed, showered, and dressed for the gym. All the while I found excuse after excuse to just stay home.
I couldn't think of good arguments against the excuses, so I just observed them as they assaulted me... and continued to prepare the kids. Step by step, we all ended up at the gym. I checked the kids into childcare and trudged up the stairs to the yoga classroom... still pelting myself with reasons why it wasn't worthwhile.
Throughout the hour I moved from pose to pose. Breathing. Trying to still my mind. But I just wasn't feeling it.
Nevertheless, the end of the hour came quickly.
The lights dimmed. In Savasana I squirmed and twitched, trying to get my body aligned and symmetrical. Tried to relax.
Then I breathed deeply and gave up on the idea of stilling my thoughts. Towards the end of the practice, the teacher had commented on adjusting the position to maintain balance and I realized how silly it was for me to struggle to find stillness.
Poses are not still.
Somehow I always thought that the point of each pose was to find the balance and stick, unmoving - all still and serene like the yogis in the magazines.
But it's impossible not to move. The heart still beats. The lungs expand and contract. As each muscle fiber twitches, the mind and body must continually re-evaluate and adjust. I am not failing the pose by being human. I am not failing myself.
Yes, this is profound for me. Acknowledging that something so simple - so DUH! - is such an overwhelming lesson made me laugh a little at myself (internal laughter, of course - I'm not a Phillistine) and reminded me of a friend good-naturedly poking fun of me for my enthusiasm for Buddhism 101 - style discoveries.
Which led me to the realization that this friend has been dead for almost a year now. Yes, it's been nearly a year since I started this particular journey.
As I somberly acknowledged the tweak of pain that came with the remembrance, I also recalled the greatest compliment I've ever received. Yes, from this friend.
Amidst much noise of other discussion he said, "My God, what you can do with a phrase."
It's difficult to maintain Savasana when one's temples are suddenly tickled by surprise tears.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Ain't No Love Like A Sister's Love
Today Bayba and I sat on a blanket on the livingroom floor. I was lightly supporting GERD-Girl, who was struggling to sit on her own. In the midst of generally benign conversation, Bayba leaned forward, looked directly into GERD-Girl's eyes and whispered...
"Get out of my house... NOW!"
I chose not to react, simply continuing with GG. Emboldened, Bayba concocted a speech about how we were going to throw GG out of our house HARD . We were going to throw her as high as we could so she'd never come back. Maybe a good mother would have been shocked or upset. Not me. I fought back a giggle and asked her (as seriously as I could) why we should throw her sister out. Bayba grumpily replied that GG was mean like a puma. Hm. So much for deep insights. The subject was concluded when I said that I love all my babies and I would never throw any of my kids out of the house - even if they were mean like pumas. Immediately Bayba shifted gears and asked if she could hold GG. I helped Bayba hold her sister and no one was thrown out the door.
I wish I could peer into Bayba's mind and see what happened in that interaction. I suspect it was a significant event - but I could be reading way too much into it.
"Get out of my house... NOW!"
I chose not to react, simply continuing with GG. Emboldened, Bayba concocted a speech about how we were going to throw GG out of our house HARD . We were going to throw her as high as we could so she'd never come back. Maybe a good mother would have been shocked or upset. Not me. I fought back a giggle and asked her (as seriously as I could) why we should throw her sister out. Bayba grumpily replied that GG was mean like a puma. Hm. So much for deep insights. The subject was concluded when I said that I love all my babies and I would never throw any of my kids out of the house - even if they were mean like pumas. Immediately Bayba shifted gears and asked if she could hold GG. I helped Bayba hold her sister and no one was thrown out the door.
I wish I could peer into Bayba's mind and see what happened in that interaction. I suspect it was a significant event - but I could be reading way too much into it.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Good Enough
It's been a rough day. Nothing horrible. Just one of those days. I woke up with my usual morning enthusiasm (yes, I'm one of those annoying morning people), but was shortly stymied by the realization that Bayba's night-time Pull-Up had been breached and there were puddles on my bed and in hers (that she shares with G-Rex). Then, later, she wet her pants as I was trying to shovel everyone out the door so we could run off to GERD Girl's 4 month well-baby check up. After the check up I took the kids to lunch at Burgerville. Apparently the presence of speaking children offended the older women who occupied the booth across from us because, after much huffing and grumbling, they removed themselves to an outdoor table, looking daggers at me through the window. I still have no idea what offended them - even Bayba was well-behaved - other than (possibly) the discussion I was having with G-Rex about how petroleum, OPEC, and U.S.-based oil companies affect our local economies. Whatever. Then we went to the library... and I hate to admit this, but no matter how much I like the library for my own selfish purposes, I find the kiddie segment of the library to be a bit wearing.
Anyway, blah blah blah. Fill in the rest of my day with potty training accidents, a three-year-old dumping out half her bath water on the floor, an eight-year-old disgusted by not being allowed to play with her friends unsupervised (long story), yadda yadda yadda...
Oh yeah, and some seriously impressive vomiting from GERD girl...
*sigh*
As soon as Mr. Geeky McEngineer (my husband) walked in the door, I handed off the younger kids and G-Rex and I ran away to Whole Foods... a 40 minute drive.
Now, as a little background - y'all know I have some body image baggage. So, yes, in addition to my nasty little gym addiction, I've been... ugh... yes... d i e t i n g. Serious Calorie restriction. Get off my case. Yeah, I already know better.
Anyway, we had a little time left over after GERD Girl's appointment, so the ND asked if I had anything else. So I brought up some issues I've been having with splitting fingernails and some other such miniscule complaints. Turns out I seem to have some mineral deficiencies. And I probably haven't been getting enough fat. OK. So, at least for today, I decided to eat whatever-the-heck I feel like eating.
So what did I eat for dinner tonight? Why... a spinach salad, of course. Followed by an intense Spanish cheese on cranberry whole grain crackers accompanied by a Petite Syrah that's really growing on me. I find it amusing that what I eat when I have no limits is probably exactly how and what I should be eating.
Yes, I realize that I discover and relearn this ever other month. *sigh*
So now I think I'll have a little slice of mint chocolate cake and ponder how I managed to get to the end of a long grumpy day and still feel good enough.
Good enough for what isn't the point. I just generally feel OK.
Works for me.
Anyway, blah blah blah. Fill in the rest of my day with potty training accidents, a three-year-old dumping out half her bath water on the floor, an eight-year-old disgusted by not being allowed to play with her friends unsupervised (long story), yadda yadda yadda...
Oh yeah, and some seriously impressive vomiting from GERD girl...
*sigh*
As soon as Mr. Geeky McEngineer (my husband) walked in the door, I handed off the younger kids and G-Rex and I ran away to Whole Foods... a 40 minute drive.
Now, as a little background - y'all know I have some body image baggage. So, yes, in addition to my nasty little gym addiction, I've been... ugh... yes... d i e t i n g. Serious Calorie restriction. Get off my case. Yeah, I already know better.
Anyway, we had a little time left over after GERD Girl's appointment, so the ND asked if I had anything else. So I brought up some issues I've been having with splitting fingernails and some other such miniscule complaints. Turns out I seem to have some mineral deficiencies. And I probably haven't been getting enough fat. OK. So, at least for today, I decided to eat whatever-the-heck I feel like eating.
So what did I eat for dinner tonight? Why... a spinach salad, of course. Followed by an intense Spanish cheese on cranberry whole grain crackers accompanied by a Petite Syrah that's really growing on me. I find it amusing that what I eat when I have no limits is probably exactly how and what I should be eating.
Yes, I realize that I discover and relearn this ever other month. *sigh*
So now I think I'll have a little slice of mint chocolate cake and ponder how I managed to get to the end of a long grumpy day and still feel good enough.
Good enough for what isn't the point. I just generally feel OK.
Works for me.
Monday, June 23, 2008
And the Oscar Goes To...
And the Oscar goes to...
***drumroll***
The mommy in the red minivan for appearing interested and involved as her eight-year-old decided to count, out loud, to 500... in ROMAN NUMERALS! ("I. I, I. I, I, I. I, V...")
And if that mommy will keep walking stage left, she can snag her Patient-Mom-Of-The-Year award for keeping her composure as her three year old refused to leave the pool at the end of her swimming lesson... This three-year-old clutched her water toys and high-tailed it to the center of the pool, always just out of arms reach of her swim instructor and avoiding the mommy who, clutching a baby in a sling, ran around the periphery of the pool, attempting to corner the little darling. The mommy managed to sort through eight million potential tactics and scenarios without damaging any important brain cells and was able to avoid jumping into the pool, fully clothed, to drag the little cutie out of there by uttering the simple warning, "If you don't listen to your teacher, put your toys away, and come out of the pool now, you won't be able to come back for any more swimming lessons." After this warning was put forth, the three year old very calmly and sweetly returned the toys to their proper place and climbed out of the pool as if complying had been her idea in the first place.
Somebody give that mom some CHOCOLATE!
***drumroll***
The mommy in the red minivan for appearing interested and involved as her eight-year-old decided to count, out loud, to 500... in ROMAN NUMERALS! ("I. I, I. I, I, I. I, V...")
And if that mommy will keep walking stage left, she can snag her Patient-Mom-Of-The-Year award for keeping her composure as her three year old refused to leave the pool at the end of her swimming lesson... This three-year-old clutched her water toys and high-tailed it to the center of the pool, always just out of arms reach of her swim instructor and avoiding the mommy who, clutching a baby in a sling, ran around the periphery of the pool, attempting to corner the little darling. The mommy managed to sort through eight million potential tactics and scenarios without damaging any important brain cells and was able to avoid jumping into the pool, fully clothed, to drag the little cutie out of there by uttering the simple warning, "If you don't listen to your teacher, put your toys away, and come out of the pool now, you won't be able to come back for any more swimming lessons." After this warning was put forth, the three year old very calmly and sweetly returned the toys to their proper place and climbed out of the pool as if complying had been her idea in the first place.
Somebody give that mom some CHOCOLATE!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Just Another Day with Bayba the Dynamatrix
Picture an elementary school gym, packed for an awards ceremony. I stand proudly in the back, GERD-girl in sling (she had already soaked us both in spit up in the two minutes it took to traipse from car to afrorementioned gymnasium), three year old hanging from my right arm, climbing my leg to do flips. The climbing and flipping were less disturbing to others than the stealing-of-other-kids' (and one adult's) chairs that she was doing earlier, so I was content to pat and dab puking baby with my left hand and control a flipping tasmanian devil with my right.
Smiling, I manage to shoot thumbs-ups and happy nods as my eight-year-old is called to the front SIX times to collect her awards. No other child's name is called more than once, so I'm already garnering a little more attention than I'd like - yet I have to admit that the misplaced My-Child-Is-An-Honor-Student-At-_______-type smug glow is creeping up.
The awards ceremony concludes. The students gather themselves to exit the gym as the parents wait. I release Bayba's hand to hold a cloth diaper over the front of the baby so that her projectile vomit won't land on anyone around us.
And then a siren scares the living daylights out of everyone in the gym.
Oh. No.
Oh yes.
Holding the be-slinged baby tight against my body, I dive for the media cart where a BULLHORN is flashing red lights and blaring an alarm. Somehow I find the switch Bayba had turned and turned it off. Blushing like crazy, I laugh with the parents who are chuckling sympathetically and hurry past those who aren't as I usher my dynamatrix out the door.
...
Smiling, I manage to shoot thumbs-ups and happy nods as my eight-year-old is called to the front SIX times to collect her awards. No other child's name is called more than once, so I'm already garnering a little more attention than I'd like - yet I have to admit that the misplaced My-Child-Is-An-Honor-Student-At-_______-type smug glow is creeping up.
The awards ceremony concludes. The students gather themselves to exit the gym as the parents wait. I release Bayba's hand to hold a cloth diaper over the front of the baby so that her projectile vomit won't land on anyone around us.
And then a siren scares the living daylights out of everyone in the gym.
Oh. No.
Oh yes.
Holding the be-slinged baby tight against my body, I dive for the media cart where a BULLHORN is flashing red lights and blaring an alarm. Somehow I find the switch Bayba had turned and turned it off. Blushing like crazy, I laugh with the parents who are chuckling sympathetically and hurry past those who aren't as I usher my dynamatrix out the door.
...
Friday, March 7, 2008
Irony
Wednesday night I had a lull while nursing Miss M, which I decided to use by writing up a task list for Thursday. This morning, while trying to scurry around, picking up the living room before the kids woke up, I found the notebook sitting on the table beside my rocking chair. It said:
Thursday 3/06/08
To Do:
That's all I had time to write down between diaper changes, feedings, and all the other stuff of life. I think I'm going to post that "list" on my fridge as a touchstone to reality. It makes me laugh every time I see it.
The day after Miss M was born, I was telling my Dad all about the action-packed super-fast birth and how I'd assumed I'd have at least 8-12 hours of labor... My Dad's response was, "I guess that's what happens when we assume we know what nature is going to do."
I'm a planner. A list-maker. A schedule-follower. These things make me feel competent and in control. As with the awesome strength and unpredictability of nature, it's probably good to be reminded (occassionally) about the nebulous character of time. So I didn't get any "chores" done. Between the shared efforts of my husband and father the important tasks have been taken care of so I can take the time to focus on the baby and find a few extra minutes for the other children. I think I've written my last "To Do" list - for a little while, anyway.
Thursday 3/06/08
To Do:
That's all I had time to write down between diaper changes, feedings, and all the other stuff of life. I think I'm going to post that "list" on my fridge as a touchstone to reality. It makes me laugh every time I see it.
The day after Miss M was born, I was telling my Dad all about the action-packed super-fast birth and how I'd assumed I'd have at least 8-12 hours of labor... My Dad's response was, "I guess that's what happens when we assume we know what nature is going to do."
I'm a planner. A list-maker. A schedule-follower. These things make me feel competent and in control. As with the awesome strength and unpredictability of nature, it's probably good to be reminded (occassionally) about the nebulous character of time. So I didn't get any "chores" done. Between the shared efforts of my husband and father the important tasks have been taken care of so I can take the time to focus on the baby and find a few extra minutes for the other children. I think I've written my last "To Do" list - for a little while, anyway.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Beginnings
M’s Birth Story
Wednesday, February 27th, 2008, was pretty uneventful. I washed and sanitized the baby carseat and spent some time re-reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Despite having no real intention of trying for a natural childbirth, I still found inspiration in the birth stories and information presented by Ina May Gaskin. For days I’d been feeling like I was ready to go into labor at any time, so it was difficult to think about anything else… but I was also starting to think that maybe I was being too impatient and seeing signs of impending labor out of wishful thinking – when really it could be weeks before I really went into labor.
J and I stayed up late, Wednesday night, watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report with my Dad. I was having my usual more-than-Braxton-Hicks-but-not-quite-the-real-thing contractions and mostly just ignoring them when we finally went to bed. It seemed like the contractions stopped, even though I woke up every 30-45 minutes until about 2:30 a.m. when I got up to use the bathroom. Justin asked if everything was OK and I said (without taking the time to think about what I was saying) that I thought he probably had another hour or so to try to get some sleep. When I realized what I’d just said I felt a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been timing contractions or anything, and I wasn’t really that uncomfortable and I didn’t want to be a drama queen when I wasn’t even sure anything was really going on. But as I thought about how I was feeling, I realized that my back was really hurting and that it just seemed like it was time to go to the hospital.
So I woke J up and told him to get ready and called my midwife… again I was a little worried that I was jumping the gun because I hadn’t been timing contractions and didn’t have any numbers or real evidence to give anyone about why I thought it was time… but Kathleen, my midwife, listened to what I had to say and just said that she’d meet me at the Birth Center.
J woke up my Dad and told him we were going. By the time we got there, I was feeling rather grumpy and uncomfortable. It was about 3:45 a.m. so we had to use the ER entrance and the Receptionist was wasting my time with questions about whether or not the Birth Center was expecting me, was I here to be induced, etc… so I just quit talking to her and kept walking to the elevators and went up to the L&D floor. On the L&D floor I signed the paperwork and joked with the nurses about how I wanted them to call anesthesia immediately (they were laughing, but I think we all knew that I wasn’t really joking) and get the epidural going. My nurse escorted us to our room and performed the internal exam, pronouncing my 4cm dilated, but easily stretchable to a 5 (my first thought was Stretchable?!?!? No wonder that hurt so much!!!) and she called for the epidural and brought in another nurse to start my IV.
Meanwhile my contractions were getting worse. They strapped me to the fetal monitors at 4:00, and I was able to hold still long enough for the nurse to get my IV inserted and start forcing saline through. Then I asked them to unhook the monitor so I could go to the bathroom. In the bathroom I started feeling like pushing… and I really didn’t want to get off the toilet… but I also didn’t want to have an accidental waterbirth, so as soon as the last contraction ended, I forced myself to get up and go back out into the room.
The nurse wanted to strap the fetal monitors back on, but I told her she’d have to do it while I was on my hands and knees. She said I didn’t have to be in that position – that the baby was fine and I could just lay down. I told her that it was for my own comfort and climbed onto the bed – on my hands and knees. I didn’t see her face, but I could hear the tone of her voice change as she asked me if I was feeling “pushy.” I didn’t really want to talk to her, so I didn’t tell her that I was pushing already. I was afraid she’d tell me to stop.
Suddenly my water broke and I could hear people starting to freak out. The nurse was yelling for the other nurses to find my midwife, then almost immediately after that for them to find anyone. Meanwhile she and the other nurses who had come in were trying to convince me to turn over onto my back. Even J was doing his best to try to help me cooperate, but that sounded like the worst idea I’d ever heard, so I continued to ignore them and just concentrated on pushing (although I think I might have said “No!” in a very grumpy tone of voice at least once or twice).
At 4:47 a.m., February 28th, 2008, the L&D nurse caught M as I pushed her out. Shortly afterwards, my midwife arrived (in time to deliver the placenta) and the OB on call briefly made an appearance (and realized he’d missed the show and left).
M needed oxygen so I didn’t get to hold her right away, but it took a little while for me to kind of come down to the human plane, anyway, so while I did watch very closely as the nurses worked on M, I was still feeling a little out of it. The placenta did not deliver in one piece, so there was some concern of hemmorhage for a while, but the midwife was firm in making the staff wait and give my body a chance to take care of itself and I didn’t have to have any pitocin.
After they were pretty sure I wasn’t going to hemmorhage, they let me take a hot bath while J held M. It was wonderful and I felt SO good afterward… and felt better and better as I realized how awesome this birth had been. At first I felt a little sad that there hadn’t been time for my friends to come. There hadn’t even been time to get any pictures. But at the same time, I’d always wanted to do a natural birth and now I finally had. I felt so powerful – like I’d done everything exactly how it was supposed to be done, regardless of what anyone was telling me to do (or not to do).
Poor M was all bruised up from her super-fast trip to the outside world, and she slept for several hours after the birth. Her older sisters were very excited to meet her. There was some concern about a heart murmur, so we had to wait for a peds cardiologist to come do an ekg before we were cleared to go home, but cleared we were and M and I were home before dinner on Friday, February 29th.
Wednesday, February 27th, 2008, was pretty uneventful. I washed and sanitized the baby carseat and spent some time re-reading Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Despite having no real intention of trying for a natural childbirth, I still found inspiration in the birth stories and information presented by Ina May Gaskin. For days I’d been feeling like I was ready to go into labor at any time, so it was difficult to think about anything else… but I was also starting to think that maybe I was being too impatient and seeing signs of impending labor out of wishful thinking – when really it could be weeks before I really went into labor.
J and I stayed up late, Wednesday night, watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report with my Dad. I was having my usual more-than-Braxton-Hicks-but-not-quite-the-real-thing contractions and mostly just ignoring them when we finally went to bed. It seemed like the contractions stopped, even though I woke up every 30-45 minutes until about 2:30 a.m. when I got up to use the bathroom. Justin asked if everything was OK and I said (without taking the time to think about what I was saying) that I thought he probably had another hour or so to try to get some sleep. When I realized what I’d just said I felt a little embarrassed because I hadn’t been timing contractions or anything, and I wasn’t really that uncomfortable and I didn’t want to be a drama queen when I wasn’t even sure anything was really going on. But as I thought about how I was feeling, I realized that my back was really hurting and that it just seemed like it was time to go to the hospital.
So I woke J up and told him to get ready and called my midwife… again I was a little worried that I was jumping the gun because I hadn’t been timing contractions and didn’t have any numbers or real evidence to give anyone about why I thought it was time… but Kathleen, my midwife, listened to what I had to say and just said that she’d meet me at the Birth Center.
J woke up my Dad and told him we were going. By the time we got there, I was feeling rather grumpy and uncomfortable. It was about 3:45 a.m. so we had to use the ER entrance and the Receptionist was wasting my time with questions about whether or not the Birth Center was expecting me, was I here to be induced, etc… so I just quit talking to her and kept walking to the elevators and went up to the L&D floor. On the L&D floor I signed the paperwork and joked with the nurses about how I wanted them to call anesthesia immediately (they were laughing, but I think we all knew that I wasn’t really joking) and get the epidural going. My nurse escorted us to our room and performed the internal exam, pronouncing my 4cm dilated, but easily stretchable to a 5 (my first thought was Stretchable?!?!? No wonder that hurt so much!!!) and she called for the epidural and brought in another nurse to start my IV.
Meanwhile my contractions were getting worse. They strapped me to the fetal monitors at 4:00, and I was able to hold still long enough for the nurse to get my IV inserted and start forcing saline through. Then I asked them to unhook the monitor so I could go to the bathroom. In the bathroom I started feeling like pushing… and I really didn’t want to get off the toilet… but I also didn’t want to have an accidental waterbirth, so as soon as the last contraction ended, I forced myself to get up and go back out into the room.
The nurse wanted to strap the fetal monitors back on, but I told her she’d have to do it while I was on my hands and knees. She said I didn’t have to be in that position – that the baby was fine and I could just lay down. I told her that it was for my own comfort and climbed onto the bed – on my hands and knees. I didn’t see her face, but I could hear the tone of her voice change as she asked me if I was feeling “pushy.” I didn’t really want to talk to her, so I didn’t tell her that I was pushing already. I was afraid she’d tell me to stop.
Suddenly my water broke and I could hear people starting to freak out. The nurse was yelling for the other nurses to find my midwife, then almost immediately after that for them to find anyone. Meanwhile she and the other nurses who had come in were trying to convince me to turn over onto my back. Even J was doing his best to try to help me cooperate, but that sounded like the worst idea I’d ever heard, so I continued to ignore them and just concentrated on pushing (although I think I might have said “No!” in a very grumpy tone of voice at least once or twice).
At 4:47 a.m., February 28th, 2008, the L&D nurse caught M as I pushed her out. Shortly afterwards, my midwife arrived (in time to deliver the placenta) and the OB on call briefly made an appearance (and realized he’d missed the show and left).
M needed oxygen so I didn’t get to hold her right away, but it took a little while for me to kind of come down to the human plane, anyway, so while I did watch very closely as the nurses worked on M, I was still feeling a little out of it. The placenta did not deliver in one piece, so there was some concern of hemmorhage for a while, but the midwife was firm in making the staff wait and give my body a chance to take care of itself and I didn’t have to have any pitocin.
After they were pretty sure I wasn’t going to hemmorhage, they let me take a hot bath while J held M. It was wonderful and I felt SO good afterward… and felt better and better as I realized how awesome this birth had been. At first I felt a little sad that there hadn’t been time for my friends to come. There hadn’t even been time to get any pictures. But at the same time, I’d always wanted to do a natural birth and now I finally had. I felt so powerful – like I’d done everything exactly how it was supposed to be done, regardless of what anyone was telling me to do (or not to do).
Poor M was all bruised up from her super-fast trip to the outside world, and she slept for several hours after the birth. Her older sisters were very excited to meet her. There was some concern about a heart murmur, so we had to wait for a peds cardiologist to come do an ekg before we were cleared to go home, but cleared we were and M and I were home before dinner on Friday, February 29th.
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